


Firsthand Experience

by crow (witchfire)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Aftercare, Curses, Dubious Consent, Fear of Death, Harry Does Something Very Stupid, Humiliation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Rough Sex, manipulative Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchfire/pseuds/crow
Summary: Harry goes antique shopping in hopes of finding a gift to rekindle an old relationship, but he finds something completely different.Alternatively, Severus Snape would make an awful retail employee.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 12
Kudos: 119
Collections: Emergency Thirst Aid Station





	Firsthand Experience

The antique store looked smaller than Harry had expected. Luna had told him about it years ago, saying it was her favorite place to track down unusual treasures hidden among the forgotten heirlooms left behind by old magical families. It was supposed to be a hidden trove of interesting enchanted items, and perhaps it was, but it seemed unlikely to Harry that much of value could be hidden in such cramped quarters. From the way she described the place, he had been expecting a rather large business, but this was more like a tiny, single-story house.

Harry went inside anyway. Not much use in apparating all the way there just to turn back again. A tattered screen door opened into a cramped and dusty hallway, with open doors on either side and one leading straight ahead. He turned left, wondering if the rooms would make a full circuit back to that hall. As he walked into the first room, an old suitcase left in the middle of the floor almost immediately tripped him, but he caught his balance on a table and held his breath as a stack of books teetered precariously. An agonizing moment passed, and thankfully nothing fell.

The room was an explosion of _stuff_. Piles upon piles of things. A very unfortunate oil painting of a remarkably ancient woman stared down at him, occasionally blinking her bright yellow eyes, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed full of porcelain figurines. He had never seen so many tiny animals before, all capering and cavorting on their solid oak pasture. Most of the floor was filled with old furniture, all rickety and broken and stacked haphazardly wherever they’d fit, and the narrow footpath was covered with rugs that seemed determined to trip him again.

Well this wasn’t promising at all. He moved on to the next room, which was positioned in the corner of the building. It was much the same as the first, filled with uninteresting furniture and disorganized books, but where the last room had shelves of porcelain figurines, this one had tall jewelry cabinets. An attached note requested that all customers seek the assistance of an employee to view any of the items inside, so Harry bypassed them. He would come back once he had seen the rest of the shop.

Each room was about the same as the last. More furniture, more books, with the occasional irritable portrait or odd mannequin dressed in severely outdated clothing. One room was filled almost wall-to-wall with musty old blankets and knotted lengths of yarn, all hanging haphazardly on creaky metal racks. Strangest of all was the seeming complete absence of another living soul. Even the main room, where he found a spacious counter housing the cash register, was abandoned, although a steaming cup of tea was clear evidence that somebody would turn up eventually. There was a closed door behind the counter, one with a small placard stating it was for employees only. Harry supposed whoever else was in the building was hidden away back there.

But their presence only really mattered if Harry even found something worth buying. He was on a mission to find the perfect Valentine’s Day gift for Luna. Sure, they weren’t together anymore, hadn’t been for ages, but he had recently found out she was back in town and he thought… Well, he wanted to get her something nice. A suitably impressive gift would make a great icebreaker, or at least he hoped it would. He turned back toward the room with the jewelry cabinets.

There were five of them, and most were filled with gaudy jewelry, the sort an ancient pureblooded matron would croon over. A few didn’t seem all too bad, though. In fact, two or three pieces seemed worthy of closer inspection. He reexamined the note with a sigh, then began making some noise in hopes of drawing somebody’s attention. He shuffled his feet across the floor on the way to the counter, where he drummed his hands a few times, looking toward the closed door.

“Hello?” he finally ventured. “Is anybody here?”

Nothing. Maybe the place was closed. But the lights were on and it was an ordinary weekday afternoon. Surely somebody would turn up eventually. He waited a bit longer, pacing around the counter, stopping to inspect a rather fearsome troll tooth hung on a rack on the wall. Still nothing.

One could only be expected to have so much patience. He returned to the jewelry cabinets. There was a delicate necklace made of pure white crystals so fine they looked like glittering stars. It seemed absolutely perfect for Luna, the sort of thing she would either wear until it fell off, or hang from the branch of a tree she particularly loved. He just needed a closer look, and it was right there. All he needed to do was open the door, reach in, and pluck it off its velvet stand.

The cabinet door was unlocked. Assuming luck had guided him, that this was the sign of a perfect gift, he opened the door just enough to reach inside. He immediately bumped against a glass stand displaying a long string of black beads, knocking them into his hand. The necklace stuck to his skin somehow, stinging as if it had bitten him. Yelping in shock more than pain, he wrenched his arm back and the beads followed, clutching onto him like tiny, hateful nails. Gritting his teeth, he shook out his hand and the necklace fell to the ground.

It was as if he had set off an explosion. Dozens of tiny beads crashed to the wood floor, and judging by the sound, they had shattered upon impact. Most vanished beneath the clutter, and the narrow footpath was covered in a fine, glassy dust. It was unbelievably loud in the silent building, but some of that shock might have come from the sudden wave of numbness washing over his hand. He took a step back and fell over a stray ottoman, landing hard on his side. The wounded hand twitched and throbbed on the floor, and he grabbed it with the other to try to stop the spasming. The sensation immediately spread to that hand too. He gasped, curling the rest of his body as far away from his hands as possible. They felt as if they had fallen asleep, with no intention of waking up any time soon. It wasn’t excruciating, but it was terribly uncomfortable, and neither hand responded when he tried to curl his fingers.

A door slammed and Harry’s breath caught at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Glittering pieces of black beads were scattered across the floor, grinding against his side as he struggled to sit up from such an awkward angle without the use of his hands, which were still pressed to the ground. He couldn’t help but laugh at how it took actual property damage to get an employee’s attention. Hopefully the shopkeeper would know the counter-curse, or at the very least know someone who did. The footsteps reached the doorway and Harry began to turn his head around to face them, his hands heavy and all but useless on the floor, but he froze at the sound of the person’s voice.

“And what do we have here?”

Only one person could simultaneously sound so bored and so irate. Harry considered running, just shoving past the man and fleeing out to the street, or apparating away right where he sat, delicate antiques be damned. But his hands had turned so numb that they throbbed, and keeping them pressed against the floor was the only way to make the sensation bearable. So Harry twisted around to face him, smiling sheepishly, hoping that the many years since their last meeting had eased away some of the animosity.

It was Snape alright, still dressed in his same austere robes, all black with the long line of buttons leading all the way up to his throat, still sneering down at Harry like he was about to deduct House Points. Harry couldn’t think of a worse person to ask for help. 

“Hello. Ahh… I’ve had a bit of an accident,” Harry said, trying to keep his tone pleasant despite the way the spasming was now working up to his wrists.

A curious wave of emotions washed over Snape’s face. Shock. Horror? Yeah, that was probably horror. Sheer revulsion, that was for sure. But then his eyes dropped down to where Harry had his hands pressed against the floor. His expression changed entirely, to something entirely unfamiliar. “What happened to your hands, Potter?”

Harry looked down his arms, immediately feeling rather stupid. The skin was turning an alarming shade of purple, and the numbness had spread up past his wrists. “I just wanted to look at something, but a necklace jumped onto me and fell on the floor when I moved away. It didn’t mean to, but now I—” he stopped, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable with the way Snape was staring at him. “What?”

Snape moved closer, navigating carefully through the crowded room. Scowling, he raised his wand and aimed it at Harry, his feet crunching against the broken beads scattered across the floor. He paid them no mind as he sent a non-verbal spell toward Harry’s hands. A thick, transparent bubble swelled around the afflicted area, sealing itself firmly against the floor. The boundary seemed to hold the effect in a stasis, stopping the numbness from spreading further up Harry’s arms, but it did nothing to ease the discomfort and he was essentially trapped, pinned to the ground. “You chose the wrong day to make such an idiotic mistake, Potter. The owner is out, I am merely looking over the shop for him.”

“How… kind of you.” Harry tried his best to keep his tone polite and measured despite the way his hands continued to throb. No use in setting off the man’s temper. “You don’t happen to know how to fix this, do you?”

Snape stared down at Harry for a long moment before responding, likely relishing in the uncomfortable silence and Harry’s obvious misery. “I do.”

Harry bit his lip to try to distract himself from the aching numbness as he waited for Snape to continue. Snape’s eyes flicked to the motion, only snapping away as Harry broke the silence. “Well, can you help me?”

“I can, but you are afflicted with a particularly demanding curse. One that may only be removed with a sacrifice. And it must be done quickly, before the curse eventually erodes through my barrier and spreads to the rest of your body.”

“I— what? A sacrifice?” Harry’s ears seemed to be ringing. He realized faintly that he was far too shocked to fully take in everything Snape was saying.

“Yes. Do you have anything worth offering in exchange for the continued use of your body?”

He loomed overhead, watching as Harry tried to process the words. “Practically nothing. I have my wand and my wallet, that’s it.”

Snape moved closer. His eyes were locked on Harry, examining him. The way his voice dragged over each word, as if savoring the situation, made Harry’s skin crawl. “Perhaps something less… mundane.”

“What do you mean?”

Snape placed his hand on a table, long knobbly fingers drumming a slow beat. “What might you still have that you could live without? An experience, perhaps?”

“Uh. Is this some sort of riddle? I don’t know.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Potter? We don’t have time for games.”

Harry felt sick. He had no idea what Snape was getting at, and the urgency was overwhelming. “Sorry, but I really don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean your virginity. Perhaps you still… retain some form of innocence.”

“No!” Harry jolted back as if he had been shocked, his arms wrenching painfully against the barrier. “That’s long gone.”

Snape seemed to consider the response. He lowered down into a crouch, speaking to Harry at eye level. “Surely there is something you have not yet… explored. I only suggest this because time is of the essence. We really must think of something.” His firm eyes softened, as if trying to demonstrate that he actually cared. Maybe he did. Would he be liable if Harry lost the use of his hands?

“Well…” Harry didn’t know what to say. He could scarcely muster up the proper thought process to even begin to comprehend what Snape was implying.

“Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but have you ever been penetrated?”

No. _No, no, no, no, no_. Harry shook his head, eyes wide, breath catching in his throat.

“Harry. May I call you that?” Snape reached out, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Harry stiffened, not knowing what to do, too frozen with panic. “I know this is frightening, but we really must act quickly.”

“Do you mean…” Harry swallowed, shifting his eyes down in embarrassment. “Are you asking if I’ve ever had anything up my arse before?” What a perfectly mortifying thing to say. And to _Snape_ of all people. But Snape only nodded, encouraging Harry to continue. “Well, no. I haven’t.”

“Then we have our solution,” Snape replied. “Unfortunately, considering the state of your hands, I will have to assist you.”

“Assist me _how_? Assist me in getting to St. Mungo’s?”

“No. It will be too late by the time they’re able to treat you, and apparating will jolt the cursed area too much, running the risk of interrupting the stasis charm. Those precious seconds could cost you your hands, if not much more.”

The panic was too overwhelming and Harry could scarcely think. “Okay. So do whatever you have to do.”

“If you’re certain?” Snape peered into his eyes, and Harry nodded as his hands continued to pulse with throbbing, aching _nothing_. “Very well.” Snape’s tone was light, casual, without the slightest hint of disgust or apprehension. He stood up and lifted his wand again, flicking it in the direction of the two open doorways. The arches turned into solid walls, trapping them inside.

“Wait, what are you doing?” This was all starting to feel too real.

“Surely you don’t want an errant customer to walk in on this. We’ll make it fast, but this is a public business, after all.” Harry only nodded again, squeezing his eyes shut as Snape moved closer. “I’m going to remove your trousers now.”

Harry dropped his head and buried his face against the inside of his arm, smashing his glasses against his nose. He was kneeling on the floor, back arched uncomfortably, trying his best to sit upright as much as possible to preserve some sense of dignity. “Just get it over with. Don’t walk me through it, just do it.”

“Very well.” Hands slid over Harry’s waistband, trailing down to his belt. Severus unfastened the buckle, then stopped to clear some clutter out of his way. He crossed his legs on the floor, then resumed removing Harry’s trousers. They caught on Harry’s hips, tugged down to his thighs, and after a brief hesitation, his pants were pulled down too. 

Harry stared down at the floor, locking his attention on the glittering bead fragments as Snape did something—he was trying to not think about it—wondering if the enchantment had broken with the beads. Likely so, otherwise Snape wouldn’t be sitting so casually on the floor. Harry thought about the rug in the corner of his eye, and that pretty necklace he had wanted to buy for Luna. Not that he could buy _anything_ from here now, not without thinking about _this_.

Something cold and wet smeared across his arse and he let out a shout. “Wait! Hold on, just wait a minute— I’m not—”

“Time is of the essence, Harry. I thought you understood that.” Snape replied, his voice calm and even. “I think I’ll use my wand to do this, unless you would prefer a finger.”

“I wouldn’t—” Harry let out a strangled cry as more pressure dragged against him. It left something wet and cold and liquid, trickling between his thighs.

“This would be easier if you leaned forward. I can barely see well enough to reach.”

Harry wilted. He dropped his head onto his arms, keeping as far from the barrier as possible. The last thing he wanted was for the spell to give out, pushing his head onto his hands. That would somehow be even worse than what was currently happening to him. A hand reached for his face and slipped off his glasses, and the consideration surprised him. He buried his face deeper between his arms, muttering a quiet thanks.

“Are you ready?” A hand slid across his bare skin, dragging him apart, exposing him to the silent room.

“Just get it over with.”

A firm pressure immediately prodded against him. It slipped inside easily, glossy and wet from whatever Snape had dribbled over him. “How do you feel?”

“Um… afraid?”

“Your hands. How do your hands feel?” Snape replied impatiently.

“Oh. Still the same.” Harry’s guts twisted in fear at what that could mean.

Snape sighed. “I was worried about this. I’m going to try using a finger, it may only work with skin contact.”

“Well just do it already!” Harry cried out into his arms, trembling with the need to let out the sob welling in his chest.

He heard the clatter of Snape’s wand falling to the floor and stared down where he could see it from the corner of his vision, focusing on the twisted wood pattern. That had… gone _inside of him_. A small part of it, anyway. He could scarcely believe it, and his hands throbbed just in front of him as another sort of pressure slid inside. He choked out a soft wail as Snape’s finger moved, pushing slowly in before retreating, then sliding in a few more times, working its way deeper into Harry’s body.

“Anything?”

“N—no.”

“Fuck,” Snape muttered as he continued moving his finger, pumping into Harry with a steady rhythm. “We need to try something else. Have you ever sucked a cock before?”

“Of course not.” The words forced themselves out on a burst of hysteria. 

Harry scrubbed his face against his arm before lifting into an upright position, sitting back on his heels with his hands pinned between his legs. Snape stood up, and Harry kept his eyes tightly shut at the sound of a belt jingling, of the brush of fabric as it fell to the floor. He cracked one eye open as Snape walked around and sat down on a low metal crate in front of him, wearing nothing but a long-sleeved shirt. Snape was hard, which shocked Harry to the core. Was he enjoying this _that much_? He wasn’t just hard, he was fully erect. A thick vein ran up the length, and Harry was fairly certain the whole thing was throbbing almost as much as his hands. Harry’s own cock dragged against his arms as he leaned forward to reach Snape. A sickening sort of fear washed over him as he realized he was somewhat hard too, but there wasn’t time to dwell on that. He had to do this.

Harry leaned forward over his hands to take Snape’s cock into his mouth, and Snape helped him support his weight, placing one hand on Harry’s shoulder and the other in his hair. Harry opened his mouth wide, trying to take it in with as little contact as possible, but it was too wide and slid against his lips anyway, pushing along his tongue as he took as much as he could stand.

He squeezed his eyes shut again as Snape let out a deep moan and kneaded his fingers against Harry’s scalp. “If that didn’t work, you may have to make me come. Do you think you could do that?”

Harry nodded, the cock bobbing in his mouth with the motion. Snape guided Harry further down with a hand pressed against the back of his head. Harry shut his eyes and focused on sucking it the way he preferred, hoping to finish him quickly, shifting his hips so his own cock slipped between the narrow gap in his arms. He was fully hard now, and that made it easier. He soon lost himself in the friction of their movement.

“Just look at you. It’s almost as if you _like_ this,” Snape groaned above him, and the comment snapped Harry out of his rhythm. “No, keep going. Almost there.”

If making unneccesary comments was what it took for Snape to finish, then Harry could deal with it. Wasn’t as if things could get much worse than this, so what were a few demeaning words? Harry focused on stroking the crown of Snape’s head with his tongue as he rutted between his own arms. Just a bit more, and then it could be over. If he could just have Snape’s come, just swallow it down and be done with it— 

The hand on the back of Harry’s head pushed down, shoving Snape's cock deep into his mouth, gagging him, his shoulders thrashing under the firm grip as Snape fucked into his mouth, spilling himself down Harry’s throat. Harry fought to get away, to make himself swallow everything if only so he could breathe, but Snape was holding onto him tight, still making brief thrusts until he finally went limp. Harry pulled away with a wet gasp, coughing, tears welling up in his eyes from a lack of air.

Snape was quiet a moment, leaning back against a table and staring at the ceiling. “I take it that didn’t work.”

“Maybe we’re doing it wrong. Are you sure—”

“We still have a few more things to try. You should orgasm next. It shouldn’t take very long, judging by your state.”

Harry curled over himself, absolutely mortified. But Snape was right. At this point, they needed to keep trying. His hands ached _so much_ , but his cock ached too. He shifted his weight onto one hip, twisting so Snape could reach as he returned to his position on the floor. A hand wrapped around Harry’s cock, smearing more of that cold liquid over the full length. Harry bit his lip and thought about Luna, but this hand was so much larger, and far more firm. It brought him to the edge with practiced ease, and just as he was about to come, Harry’s eyes fluttered open, instantly meeting Snape’s. He cried out, thrashing against the restraint around his wrists as he spilled over Snape’s hand. Snape kept stroking, pumping it all out, making warm come run between Harry’s thighs and dribble over the sides of his hips.

“Have you ever eaten your own come before, Harry?” Snape asked, his voice scarcely above a whisper, and Harry parted his lips in response. Two fingers pushed his own bitter come into his mouth. This was absolute madness. There was no reason why this would be the thing that freed him, but he closed his lips and sucked on the fingers as they ran along his tongue. He wasn’t surprised when Snape spoke again. “I expect you know what’s coming next.”

Harry nodded and rolled forward, propping all of his weight on his forearms, baring his arse to the room again. He almost laughed when he heard Snape cast cushioning charms for their knees. “Are you even going to be able to? You just—”

Snape pushed into him, his cock already slick and firm enough to split Harry open. It was easy after the first few inches, and Harry let out a long groan, relieved in a way. This wasn’t so bad, not nearly as bad as he imagined it would be. Actually, it was almost _good_. The sensation of being so utterly filled was strange, but satisfying in a deep way that made him ache from the depths of his core all the way to the tips of his fingers.

He gasped at the sudden sensation in his hands, as Snape moved in a way that felt _just right_. “It’s working! Keep going!”

Snape made a low noise in response and thrust harder, pushing against that place deep within Harry over and over. He reached down and took Harry’s cock, which had somehow sprung back to life already, and stroked it along to his steady tempo. Feeling crept into Harry’s hands, and he cried out, relishing in the renewed sensation, _loving_ it. He could tell Snape was coming as he fucked into Harry with even more force, and then Harry shouted, spilling himself all over the barrier beneath him, where his hands were alive and moving, curling against the floor, and Snape kept going and going until they were both fully spent.

Snape sat back on the floor. He seemed out of breath as he spoke. “Your feeling is fully restored, then?”

“Yeah. Good as new.” Harry tried to force a smile. He was relieved, he really was. He was relieved and grateful and overwhelmed with guilt for having assumed Snape had been trying to manipulate him, and then the tears were flowing.

Snape removed the barrier spell, and Harry went limp. He didn’t fight as Snape dragged him onto his lap, didn’t say anything as a hand smoothed over his hair. He only cried harder when Snape murmured something about him handling himself very well, could only cry and bury his face in his hands. It passed after a while and he slowly sat up, wiping his tears on the back of his sleeve.

“Thank you for helping me.” Harry finally managed to speak, and he was answered with a cup of water and his glasses. He slipped his glasses on before clutching the cup, taking slow sips while staring down at the floor.

“I suppose you’re more than welcome to come back the next time I’m here for the day. There are plenty of other cursed objects to stumble across, I’m sure,” Snape replied lightly as he pulled his trousers back on. 

Harry couldn’t help but smile at that. This had been… well, “fun” wasn’t quite the right word. It had been an experience. One he wouldn’t forget any time soon. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

The reply felt kind of weak, but Snape laughed in response. Harry thought the sound was surprisingly pleasant.

Snape helped Harry up and handed him his clothes, waiting for him to dress before vanishing the walls covering the door frames. “Now, was there something in that jewelry case you wanted to see?”

Harry realized he had no idea how to answer that.


End file.
